On our album Folk and Baroque (1975), Bill and I wrote short bios of each other. I submit mine of him: "Bill Crofut is one of those guys whom you believe no matter what he tells you, and since he's been all over the world (concerts in 34 countries), he figures he has a few things to say...He thinks Colorado is somewhere near North Carolina, but when he gets to each town he recognizes the people and the places as if he'd been there all his life. He is the world's worst bookkeeper, but one of the world's great story-tellers; he can't spell, but he has an amazing sensitivity to language...I haven't known him all that long - only since the day I was rehearsing in Carnegie Hall when he appeared, sporting a hare-brained scheme - something about banjo and harpsichord playing folk and baroque music. Before long he'd convinced not only me and our hard-nosed agent, but thousands of people all over the country. Who would have thought, for example, that Bartók on banjo and harpsichord would end up evoking the fabulous folk instruments of the Hungarian and Rumanian countryside? Who would have dreamed that Robert Louis Stevenson, whose poems you used to have to recite in the 8th grade, would have hit potential? The answer is Crofut...". Stevenson is the author of The Wind and I have to admit that I am the author of the delicate but sneaky harpsichord obbligato to Bill's folk-like setting, which so many audiences seemed to know even before he sang it. The song was published by Atheneum Press (1975) with my very simplified piano arrangement, in a collection of his songs entitled The Moon on the One Hand.